Sins of our Past
by The Cocky Undead
Summary: Castle has been searching for Clint ever since the whole Avengers and Alien incident in New York the year before. However, he's not the only one who's been waiting for Agent Barton to come back to New York (Sequel to Nighthawks).
1. Looking for Barton

**[Sins of our past]**

**Prologue **

"Clint? Clint! Ohmy—." Castle bit off the rest of his words and dropped to his knees. Clint lay in a pale, bloody mess in front of him. His blue eyes were wide and hid mouth was slack.

Castle reached forward and pressed his hands onto Clint's stomach, where a gaping wound oozed blood. Slick blood squeezed through his fingers, covering the back of Castle's hands.

"C-Clint?" Castle whispered, his voice shaking. "What…happened to you?"

"He was shot." The new voice broke through Castle's fog. Castle's head whipped up to see the newcomer approaching him, his hands held in an easy manner in front of him.

"What?" Castle said numbly.

"He was shot." The man repeated, somewhat annoyed.

Castle swallowed and looked back down at his brother. "Clint?" He mumbled.

Clint's eyes slowly rolled to the side, staring up at Castle.

The man leaned over Castle and Clint an impressed look on his face. "I'm surprised he's still awake. The pain he's in must be terrible…in fact," The man said thoughtfully, "I'm frankly surprised and somewhat miffed that he's still alive."

Castle's head snapped up, anger beginning to course through him.

The man frowned at Castle. "Don't get your panties into a bunch. I was only doing what I was told."

"You shot him." It wasn't a question.

"I did." The man said. "I clearly didn't do a very good job, as you can see." He gestured toward Clint. "I threw my aim at the last minute…probably because of his old man; yours too I suppose."

Castle tried to process what the man was saying, but was having a hard time concentrating on what was being said as he pressed his hands to Clint's wound.

"Anyway." The man said straightening. "I'd better be off."

* * *

**Two weeks Earlier**

"Mr. Castle?"

Castle glanced over his shoulder. A mild looking man stared back at him.

"Yes? You want me to sign a book for you? I would be happy to!" Castle pulled a sharpie out of his pocket.

"No, thank you." The mild man said. He paused. "Actually I would love to have you sign one of my numerous copies of your books, but sadly that's not why I'm here."

Castle slowly put his sharpie away, glancing around the Starbucks.

"Who are you?" He demanded suddenly suspicious.

The mild man reached out for Castle's arm, guiding him to one of the small tables in the corner of the shop.

"My name isn't important."

"It is to me!" Castle interjected, sitting down heavily on a chair.

The man took the chair opposite Castle. He placed a cup of coffee on the table and slid it to Castle.

"Here. It's just the way you like it."

Castle frowned, but picked up the cup and slowly took a sip. His eyes widened.

"It's perfect. How did you know?"

The man smiled. "It's my job."

"Which is?" Castle prompted.

"Again, that doesn't matter. I'm here for one thing."

"Which is?" Castle said again.

"To tell you to back off."

Castle frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry." The man said, his face not giving the impression of being very sorry. "Let me be clearer: You've been searching for your brother, Clint Rodgers or Barton as some might know him now, for the past year. Stop."

"You want me to stop?" Castle said, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"That's correct. I understand that he's your brother and you probably want to talk to him, but he's not in the position to talk to you or to even keep in contact with any of his past family. You have to understand that you're putting him in a rather awkward position with all your inquires."

"Wait," Castle said, raising a hand. "You…know Clint?"

"Yes." The man said, flashing Castle a smile. "I've had the pleasure of working with him on several occasions."

For once, Castle didn't know what to say. And the man didn't give him a chance.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Castle." He stood up, buttoning his suit coat. "Sorry for the bad news, but you have to understand that you need to leave Barton alone...It's the best course for everyone." He turned to leave, but paused and turned back. "Also, I'm a big fan of your books. I can't wait for the next one."

With that the man disappeared out Starbucks's front door.

Castle sat at the table, staring at the door, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He blinked and shook his head.

"If you thought that little request was going to make me stop, think again." Castle muttered as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey, Frank. I've got another man for you to look into…"

* * *

"Clint." There was a rap on his door, causing Clint to groan and roll over in his bed. "Clint." The voice came again. "You have to get up."

"Go away." Clint mumbled and buried his head deeper into his pillows.

"No." The door opened and soon someone was prodding Clint's foot with a hand. "You were told to get up at eight. It's eight and you're not up."

"What are you, my mother?" Clint groaned keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm not twelve, you know."

"It's hard to tell sometimes." Came the dry reply. "Get up."

"What?" Clint finally snapped as he cracked one eye open and looked up into the face of his new handler, Agent Cole.

"Fury wants to talk to you. He told you 8:30, so move your ass." Cole said firmly, giving Clint a hard look before backing out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Clint groaned again, letting his head drop back onto his pillow.

* * *

"Agent Barton."

"Sir." Clint replied his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"That's right." Fury gestured toward a chair, taking his seat behind his desk. "Please."

"Thank you, sir." Clint said, sitting.

Fury laced his fingers together, placing them on his desk. For a moment, neither of the men said a word, and then Fury sighed and leaned back against his chair.

"We've been having a slight problem with your brother."

"My brother?" Clint asked, "Rick? What's he been doing?" There was an unspoken "now" in his sentence.

"He's been trying to find you for the past year. However, his men aren't anywhere close to finding you, obviously, but it's getting…annoying every time I hear your name mentioned to me by one of my men. I even sent a good agent to talk to him. That, if anything, only made Mr. Castle more eager to find you."

Clint crossed his arms over his chest. "And what do you want me to do about this?"

Fury raised an eyebrow, "You'll do whatever I damn well tell you to do, agent."

Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, sir. And what is it that you would like me to do?"

"I want you to talk to him."

Clint blinked. "What?"

"You heard me, Agent Barton. You're going back to New York City and talking to your brother. Get him to stop trying to pry into my business. I don't like nosy people."

Fury stood up, effectively ending the conversation. "You're dismissed, Barton."

Clint stood. "Yes, sir."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm baacck!**

**So, I don't know how many people are still expecting/waiting for sequel to my Nighthawks story, but here it is! It took me a long time to decide that I actually wanted to write another and then it took me even longer to think about what I wanted to write about.**

**I literally just started this story, so I only have one and a half chapters written and I vaguely know what I want to do, I just need to talk it through with my sister or someone. **

**The other thing is that I'm pretty busy with school, so I can't promise that chapters will be posted very quickly, but I will do my best. **


	2. He's Back

**[He's Back]**

"Cliiinnttt!"

Clint winced at the volume of Stark's voice. He let his duffel drop to the floor, and crossed his arms over his chest, in case Stark decided to do something stupid like try and hug him.

Stark smiled brightly at Clint. "It's good to see my favorite archer again. Last time I saw your sorry ass was at that shawarma place."

"Actually it was when we saw Thor and Loki off." Both Clint and Stark looked to the source of the new voice.

"Agent Barton," Banner said, with a small smile. He stepped farther into the room. "It_ is_ good to see someone familiar again."

"Doctor Banner." Clint said respectfully, offering his hand to Banner. "Stark been keeping you locked up in the basement?"

"Something like that." Banner replied, clasping Clint's hand in a firm handshake.

"Please." Stark huffed. "He's been given everything that a growing scientist could want. He's doing just fine down in that basement."

Banner laughed. "He's right, I've been doing well."

"Good." Clint said. "That's good."

An uncomfortable silence fell over them. Stark, who had never been a fan of awkward silences, hoped forward, reaching out for Clint's arm. "Let me show you to where you're gonna be staying."

Clint jerked his arm out of Stark's reach, ignoring the hurt look that Stark flashed him, saying. "Lead the way, Tin Man."

* * *

Castle rubbed his hands together, staring at the murder board. Beckett stood next to him, glaring just as hard at the words and pictures scattered across the whiteboard.

She finally gave a hiss of frustration. "This case is giving me a headache." Beckett glanced at Castle. "I haven't felt this frustrated since the last time your brother was in town."

Castle smirked a little, "He does have that effect on most people."

Beckett laughed as Castle's phone went off.

"Sorry," He said, digging a hand into his pocket. "Yes?"

_"Mr. Castle? This is Frank Collins."_

"Yes?" Castle kept his voice calm, though his heart was racing.

_"I think I found him."_

"Are you sure?" Castle asked, his hand tightening around his phone.

_"I'm pretty sure. From the footage of the attack from a year ago and from what you've given me, I can say with some certainty that this man is your brother."_

Castle swallowed. "Where is he now?"

_"I'm sending you his location…"_

His phone beeped and he knew that Collins had sent him Clint's whereabouts. "Is he there now?" Castle's heart fluttered in excitement.

Collins's answer was short and to the point, _"Yes."_

"Thanks." Castle said, pulling his phone away from his ear and shoving it into his pocket.

"Beckett? I have to go."

Beckett arched an eyebrow at Castle. "You get a mysterious phone call, your voice rises in pitch and now you suddenly have to go? Well, I'm coming with you so that you don't get yourself kidnapped or something."

"No!" Castle said a little too sharply.

Beckett took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's going on, Castle? And please don't feed me any of your bullshit lies, as amusing as they may be."

Castle sighed and pressed his fingers against his temple. He looked down at Beckett. "Listen…you know that I've been tracking Clint for the past year…ever since the attack, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, my guy thinks that he found him. He's back in New York. Clint must have slipped up or something, because Collins has managed to locate him."

Beckett snorted, shaking her head; Barton didn't make mistakes.

"The point, Beckett, is that my brother is here."

* * *

The phone rang twice before he picked it up and pressed it against his ear. "Yes?"

_"Sir? It's me."_

"What do you want? You know that I don't want to be disturbed. I'm busy with a new client—,"

_"We found him, sir."_

The man pushed down his sudden anger at being interrupted. "Found who? I have many people I wish to be found."

_"Him, sir. Hawkeye. Clint Barton. Whichever name you like. He's here. Back in New York."_

* * *

Clint tugged at his collar, pulling it up higher against the cold November chill. He leaned against the small magazine stand, looking up at the sea of faces. He knew that Frank Collins, one of the numerous private investigators that Rick had hired, had given his brother Clint's location. He expected Rick to come bumbling down the street at any moment.

Clint buried his hands into his leather jacket and glanced up when the newspaper man running the stand snapped at him, "You buying somethin' or what? This ain't a—,"

"What?" Clint said, giving the man a hard look.

The man suddenly rethought what he was about to say. The short man glaring at him didn't look like he was in a very good mood.

"Nevermind…" The man mumbled, ducking his head and going back to his business.

Clint shook his head and felt his fingers buzz as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He gripped it with his fingers and pulled it out.

"Barton."

_"Clint?"_

"Nat? Hey."

_"I just got back. Cole said that you're out on a mission."_

Clint could hear the unspoken question. "Yeah. I'm in New York. Fury told me to deal with Rick."

_"Deal? Like,_ deal _deal?"_

Clint snorted. "No, don't be ridiculous. Fury wouldn't send me to kill my own brother. And annoying as he might be sometimes, he's no real threat to SHIELD."

_"True. Though, his books could be."_

"What?"

_"Have you read them, Clint? They're the cheesiest spy stories I've ever read."_

Clint laughed. "They're fun, though. You can't deny that."

_"No, I can't."_ Natasha conceded._ "Coulson liked them. He was always talking about tracking your brother down so he could get them signed…oh, damn."_ Natasha trailed off.

Clint swallowed.

_"I'm sorry, Clint."_ Natasha's voice was soft, though Clint could hear the anger in her voice. Anger at herself for slipping up and reminding both of them that Coulson was dead. Even though it had been close to a year, it didn't get any easier.

"Don't worry about it." Clint said, shortly. "Listen, I'll talk to you more when I get back. I'm supposed to be meeting Rick in a few minutes, if his private investigator did his job."

_"Alright. Talk soon."_

Clint slid the phone back into his pocket and rubbed a hand against his cold nose, angrily. He didn't even bother to push down his sudden foul mood. He was, in some ways, still grieving and recovering Coulson's death and _dammit _it was cold out.

Clint figured he was entitled to be pissed for a change. He was sick of the way that people at SHIELD still looked at him, sick of being sent on shitty missions, sick of everything.

He scowled at his boots, not wanting to burn any innocent bystander with his glare.

"Better move your ass, Rick." Clint muttered. At the rate his patience was going, Clint didn't foresee standing around for much longer.

* * *

Beckett hurried to keep up with Castle as the two of them strode their way down the sidewalk.

It had taken a bit of time, threats, and bribes, but Castle had finally agreed to bring her along to his meeting. Not that he really could have stopped her. Honestly, she was the cop who had a gun strapped to her belt, not the wanna be spy.

"But why would he just be standing by a newspaper stand?" Beckett said for what seemed like the hundredth time. She fell into step with Castle. "It doesn't sound like something he would do."

Castle shrugged, keeping his eyes ahead of them, "I don't know, but I'm not going to miss my only chance to talk to Clint again."

Beckett accepted that answer, shutting her mouth for the moment.

Castle suddenly slowed, before coming to a complete stop. "There he is." Castle's voice was strangled.

Beckett looked past Castle to where he was staring, catching sight of the lone figure leaning against the rickety newspaper stand. It was, undoubtedly, Clint Barton.

She swallowed and knew, without a doubt, that this was only the start; shit was about to hit the fan.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I'm gonna be honest. I really thought that more people were interested in reading this. I'm not complaining or anything like that. I am writing this for fun, after all, but if only a few people are reading this right now, I might actually take a step back and write this whole thing before I start to post the rest. **

**That way I'll have more time to make sure it's actually edited and ready to go before I post it. You guys know what I'm talking about? **

**Anyway. Thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. **


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